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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674888">Reset Rehabilitation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Guy/pseuds/Little_Guy'>Little_Guy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You are My Sun, My Moon, and All My Stars [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A large cocktail of various mental health issues, Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Derogatory Language, Exposure therapy, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Grief Therapy, Grief/Mourning, Group Therapy, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Trauma Recovery, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Various Complexes, cause boy, no beta we die like men, some creepy thoughts, trauma therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:21:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Guy/pseuds/Little_Guy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Heh,” His gaze tracks the sound, his bones straightening up involuntarily as Jaws shuffles his way in (a real monster. It didn’t matter if he was making the most progress. Sans refused to acknowledge the LV doped monster if he didn’t have to) a nervous set to his spines. Probably attacked someone. He’d already shared in their first session that he had a bit of a temper. A taste for violence more like it. “Yer lookin’ real hissterical, might want ta puss-out,”</p><p>Sans hates that he and the majority of the room snort at the joke. It was the one similarity he would begrudgingly give them credit for (sans, heh, Razz) as Jaws finally took his seat practically dwarfing the rest of them with his size. And then there was Blue. “That Was Very Claw-ver One, Jaws! I’m Certain That Pap— That,” His eyelights waver, flashing through so many shapes at once that Sans feels woozy, hardly noticing when miss Maple places a hand on the smallest monster’s shoulders.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Papyrus &amp; Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You are My Sun, My Moon, and All My Stars [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i carry your heart with me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ahahaha. It's been sprinkled in through... about everything ive uploaded here but i am studying trauma and trauma recovery and kind of do that as work. So. I would like to make it clear that despite that very much being my area of study this is /all/ very simplified down and actually much more fast paced and light than most recovery is like because I dont think that i can physically write through the heavy when i deal with it every day. But, this /does/ cover some very upsetting things and will continue to cover it because its something ive had the idea to do for a while.</p><p>So. First up. There is implied past abuse for both the underfell and and swapfell verses in this. Which, incredibly unhealthy, and they are not /healthy/ individuals in how they deal with things. Abusive relationships can be very complex and it will be touched upon in detail as i go, but it is not a nice or easy journey by any means even if this work might make it seem like it is. Secondly, many of the realationships shown in this are not healthy sibling relationships for various reasons, but this work is about growth so they will eventually become so. Thirdly, and possibly most importantly there is some derogatory language based on someone's apperance, but its not okay.</p><p>Uhh i guess lastly, please remember that Sweetpea is genderfluid and will possibly have different pronouns by the chapter, and that socialization in therapy with your group outside of group isn't typically recommended. Oh and! Memories by Thutmose is very much the tune of the chapter.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a beautiful day outside, the birds were singing, the flowers had just started to bloom. On days like that Sans would be out near the door to the ruins. The chill of winter welcomed as it always was while he thought of the perfect knock knock jokes for the old lady, Papyrus was getting too old for them now, or, that’s what he said.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been hoping that the old lady would be able to help; she mentioned having children, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, just sometimes. But, Sans was desperate, his bro was growing up. Had such <em> big </em> dreams, such an optimistic belief in everyone that sometimes Sans considered him naive, but he knew better. Sure, he was slow going dude, knew how to be brutal, <em> tried </em> to follow a pacifist mindset (but what good was it when things were taken? When he had to see things be taken from him?), but Sans knew better.</p><p> </p><p>His bro’s optimism didn’t make him naive. Papyrus didn’t remember the resets like he did, not wholly, not able to tell when they were happening, didn’t make notes hidden in that stupid fucking machine to make sure he never forgot. But. Papyrus <em> felt </em>things was smarter than people tended to give him credit (sometimes even he didn’t want to give his bro credit; because, if Papyrus didn’t need him, what would he do?), but Papyrus knew that brutality was a choice just like Sans did.</p><p> </p><p>His little bro just believed that brutality didn’t have to be intrinsic, or constant in life. Unfortunately Sans had gone against that more time than he could count. So he slumps, against a tree as he hears the old lady talk, a soft, sad little thing: “My loneliness... My fear... For you, my child... I will put them aside.”</p><p> </p><p>The kid was back. They always came back. Sans wishes they would stop. </p><p> </p><p>It must have been the hundredth time now? They came back. They killed. They offered mercy. They reset. Rinse. Repeat. Always searching, searching, searching. </p><p> </p><p>Sans wanted the loop to end. Why wouldn’t it end?</p><p> </p><p>Looking down at his hand he squeezes, the only new sound is that of a creaking maw. What would happen if he just… broke that promise to the old lady? It wasn’t like he made a habit of keeping them.</p><p> </p><p>He could be <em> merciful </em>, in his own way. Just a quick blast and at this rate the kid would be sent back to the start as always. Papyrus he…</p><p> </p><p>With a shudder he motions the blaster away. He couldn’t do it… sometimes… just sometimes they made his bro so <em> happy </em> . Happy in a way that Sans couldn’t (and he was bitter, bitter, bitter. What did they do that he didn’t? <em> They didn’t lie. </em> But he didn’t do that too much… just. <em> Just what? Don’t you lie about the kid? The resets? The friends that die?) </em></p><p> </p><p>Tears drip-drop into the snow as the doors of the ruins open. He wills the weakness away, praying, hoping, desperate that this will be a run where Papyrus gets to be happy. Where he gets a friend that doesn’t lie to him. That doesn’t make him feel like he has to hide his intelligence and enthusiasm for a broken brother.</p><p> </p><p>There was no dust on them. Not a sign of anything, really, not after so many runs. Sometimes the kid was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, not quite wholly Frisk or Chara, but an amalgamation of the two. The anomaly did whatever they wanted to after all.</p><p> </p><p>So. Sans steels his soul. Hides it behind a plastered on smile and jokes that sometimes get the kid to laugh, other times they scrunch up their nose in distates, signs that this might be a nice run. A merciful run. And briefly, just briefly his soul quivers with hope, that the script will be followed and followed and followed so that they can see the surface for a few moments before it's all torn away again. </p><p> </p><p>He’s played this song and dance more than should be allowed (he’s seen so many people die. All because he was too slow, didn’t know when the real Monster would show their fangs. Was too caught up in his grief that by the time he felt like he was able to deal with the anomaly it was already too late. Why was he such a coward? I’m sorry Papyrus, <em> imsosorry) </em> so he treks after the kid. </p><p> </p><p>Advises them to hide behind the lamp as his brother comes, and <em> oh. </em> Sans feels himself smiling, like when he has a particularly nice dream; never wants it to end. Papyrus was considered a human hunting fanatic… only because he wanted to be <em> recognized </em> , wanted to <em> protect </em> each and every fucking kid that dropped down here. It was such a… Sans so desperately wanted to call it foolish, but it wasn’t. It was <em> Papyrus </em> and his unique little way of protecting the Monsters that shouldn’t be. He thought that if they couldn’t get past them that the rest of the underground would be too tough.</p><p> </p><p>That if they didn’t understand the Papyrus principle (because that’s what it <em> was </em> ; Papyrus would never kill anyone. Always offered mercy and a second chance when they didn’t deserve it. Said that he <em> believed </em>in the fucking Monster even after they dusted him) that he’d put them in the shed for a short time because he knew that Undyne was looking.</p><p> </p><p>And yet. Here they go. Song and dance set on repeat.</p><p> </p><p><em> No bro that’s a rock… but what’s in front of it? </em> Sometimes the words changed, sometimes they didn’t, but it always felt like ash when he played along. Like a fiddle with a broken string.</p><p> </p><p>And the puzzles, Papyrus’ pride and joy. Even if they didn’t work out like he expected, didn’t challenge the kid in the way they were supposed to, he would light up like the sun. No. <em> brighter </em> than that fucking thing, Papyrus was all the stars in the sky, and Sans was simply a skeleton to watch them dim and grow and disapear.  </p><p> </p><p>None of the canine squad is harmed. They talk in hushed whispers of a new puppy coming to snowdin, of being pat even when there was nothing. And for a few moments his feet don’t feel as heavy as he trails after the kid and Papyrus. Watches the kid get through each and every puzzle with a grin on their face; still unable to tell if there’s any real joy there, or if it's a well crafted mask waiting to show their true skin.</p><p> </p><p>They get to the bridge and Sans feels himself start to crumble as his soul quivers in his chest cavity. Please be kind. Please be kind to him. To me. To <em> us. </em></p><p> </p><p>They step forward and as always, Papyrus puts the gauntlet away, running off into town to wait for the kid as he always does. And he follows. Hidden away as always, the kid none the wiser. They stack up on food, ignore the weapon available in the shop, and explore the town as they go.</p><p> </p><p>He finds himself walking toward where they're supposed to meet his brother and a heavy weight to his knees as Papyrus beams at him, “Do You Think… That They Might Really Want To Be My Friend, Sans?” His soul shakes. Cracks.</p><p> </p><p>Offering an easy grin, he taps at Papyrus’ jaw like he used to, “chin up, pap, they’d have to be crazy not to be friends with someone as cool as you,” And he means it. Papyrus is the coolest monster in the underground and there would be no ifs, ands, or buts, about it. After a wide sweeping hug, Sans moves away again, another crack forming across the surface as he runs away like a coward.</p><p> </p><p>He wants this to be kind run. Please, kid. Be kind. </p><p> </p><p>And yet.</p><p> </p><p>The entire atmosphere shifts as soon as they meet, he feels it in every step as he drags himself back, tears already welling in his eyes. He was such a fucking coward.</p><p> </p><p>The magic falls like he wants to, without end, without forgiveness. He bundles up what’s left, a red scarf, an empty and broken battle body, and the dust that he can. Curling up around it, over it, like he <em> should </em> have. He should have <em> stayed. </em>This was a time that Papyrus really needed him and what did he do? left— </p><p> </p><p>Left, like the door to the building is always traversed through. As if it’s normal, nothing to dwell over. As if Sans’ soul doesn’t tear itself apart every day, every <em> night. </em></p><p> </p><p>There’s a quiet <em> hello, good morning </em>. He ignores it— </p><p> </p><p>The tears mix with the dull, dull gray of Papyrus even as he forces himself to stand. Suddenly so much more brittle now that the only person who really mattered in the scheme of it all is gone and he’s left alone. Again.</p><p> </p><p>No one reaches out to him as he carries Papyrus back to their home. They look somber, just like he does. Snowdin considered them odd, had suspicions of where they were from. Of how they got here. They thought Papyrus was weird. But, right now, they had all seen the child pass through. The <em> human </em> child. And knew. </p><p> </p><p>They knew and they pitied him. The town would be different now with Papyrus gone; it always was.</p><p> </p><p>Not that any of them would remember when the kid restarted.</p><p> </p><p>He climbs the stairs, the creak it lets out telling him that the dog was there too. Shuffling into Papyrus’ room he sets everything down onto the bed, watching the dog cuddle up next to it before grabbing two books: the one on advanced puzzle making and the one he usually reads for bed.</p><p> </p><p>He was pathetic wasn’t he?</p><p> </p><p>The tears keep falling even as he finishes, the lights turning off as he head back down, looking at all the photos they have in the house. It wasn’t really a home now. Papyrus had given it life, given <em> him </em> life, was the reason Sans kept going in the first place when they were so small and tired and hungry. </p><p> </p><p>Sans knew he wasn’t a great brother, had thought before of giving the other skeleton away… he was a child himself after all. How was he supposed to take care of a younger one at his age? But he never could do it, always, always, <em> always </em> going back for wherever he had put Papyrus and apologized even if the baby didn’t know what was going on. He had to look after Papyrus, because Papyrus needed him; more importantly <em> Sans </em> needed Papyrus.</p><p> </p><p>And here he was. He’d failed again, crumpled on the floor all their pictures grasped in his hands like a lifeline as he worked up the courage to shortcut to the workshop to hide his notes of this run. Why did it always end with some kind of tragedy? Why couldn’t the kid just let them out and enjoy it? They deserved that didn’t they?</p><p> </p><p>To see the sun for more than a few moments. To explore the surface again? To get rid of the real fucking Monsters that had put them down here? </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t fair.  </p><p> </p><p>No matter what he did Sans could never deviate from this hidden script. Couldn’t interrupt the human’s fight with his brother, even though he <em> knew </em> that Papyrus could take care of himself; he always let the kid hurt him. </p><p> </p><p>Sighing, he readies himself for the eventual fight. Maybe, the kid would leave them in the afterlife, and he could see Papyrus again for a little longer where nothing could hurt them anymore.. Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>— </p><p> </p><p>He feels a boot jostle his shoulder, a glare settling on his skull as he looks over, “‘Ey, Classic, how’s life treatin’ ya?” Right. The copies were here too. Therapy Undyne had said, <em> Toriel </em> had said, <em> maybe it could help… they went through the same </em> . But Sans wasn’t like these… these <em> imposters. </em></p><p> </p><p>Eyeing the shoe with disdain he pushes it away, skidding <em> Red’s </em> (he hated the nicknames. Why should <em> he </em> have to give up his name when he was the original? To avoid confusion, as if there could be any confusion between them all) chair away from him with blue magic. “Better than you, clearly,” He hears the gnashing of teeth as Red reels in his temper (always so quick to hurt things; no wonder that copy's brother died young. Red was probably the reason), “stop acting like a thug and get your feet off the table,” </p><p> </p><p>“If ‘m a fuckin’ thug what’s that make you? Damn skeleton jesus?” Sans rolls his eyes, sinking into his hoodie. As if he would ever act so childish. When would this be over? “Pull the staff out of yer ass to part the seas, huh? You always act so damn pretentious no wonder your pansy-as— “</p><p> </p><p>“Red, I <em> will </em>stab you if you don’t shut the hell up,” great. Now even the damn chihuahua’s temperament was rubbing off on him. Therapy was fucking amazing. Whoopie. Sans loved it here. This was only their seventh session. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Boys,” </em> Ah, fuck. “There will be no threats of harm <em> or I will report this behavior </em> as is mandated by the law and the contract we all signed. I know you’re both able to remember that,” That was their session leader, a Maple Klein… her smile was terrifying.</p><p> </p><p>He very carefully digs both of his hands into his pockets, “He knows better than to call Papyrus that…”</p><p> </p><p>She nods, “You all do. But as we’ve said, changes take time and while that was not appropriate you cannot solve everything through violence.”</p><p> </p><p>His brow bones twitch when Red sticks his tongue out like a fucking five year old. He was going to be stuck in a room with idiots, the whole lot of them. There was no way they were <em> him </em> , Sans wouldn’t let himself believe it. They were.. They were all <em> brats! </em> Or homicidal. And no, his own issues with violence did <em> not </em> matter in these instances because they were <em> different </em>. “Fine… we’ll play nice,” </p><p> </p><p>“The fuck I will,” Christ could Red please shut up. He already feels a migraine forming. “I don’t like none of ya, you’re weak,”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, Because We All So Very Clearly Aren’t Here For The Same Reason,” and there was Razz. in all his assholery and gaudy clothes. He dressed in a fucking <em> military </em> uniform. “And For The Record,” Oh, great. The copy was smiling now, that could only end well. And there was miss Maple’s water squirter, as if they were all just a bunch of mangy cats, “ <em> I  </em>Was The One Who Managed To Keep <em> My  </em>Papyrus Alive The Longest. Which Clearly Makes Me The Super—” He bristles up like a car, his magic spiking as miss Maple sprays him with water. The lady was crazy. What kind of therapist sprayed them with <em> water? </em> “— What The <em> Hell </em>You Uncultured— Alright! Alright! Fucking Hell, He Would Hate It Here…”</p><p> </p><p>“Heh,” His gaze tracks the sound, his bones straightening up involuntarily as Jaws shuffles his way in (a real monster. It didn’t matter if he was making the most <em> progress. </em> Sans refused to acknowledge the LV doped monster if he didn’t have to) a nervous set to his spines. Probably attacked someone. He’d already shared in their first session that he had a bit of a <em> temper</em>. A taste for violence more like it. “Yer lookin’ real <em> hissterical, </em> might want ta <em> puss-out </em>,”</p><p> </p><p>Sans hates that he and the majority of the room snort at the joke. It was the <em> one </em> similarity he would begrudgingly give them credit for ( <em> sans </em> , heh, Razz) as Jaws finally took his seat practically dwarfing the rest of them with his size. And then there was <em> Blue. </em> “That Was A Very Claw-ver One, Jaws! I’m Certain That Pap— That,” His eye lights waver, flashing through so many shapes at once that Sans feels woozy, hardly noticing when miss Maple places a hand on the smallest monster’s shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“A tissue, dear?” Even if he didn’t want to admit it… the human wasn’t terrible. She was able to deal with all of them and their differences, and interacted with them all differently instead of treating them as if they were the <em> same </em>. Because they weren’t. Blue nods, taking it carefully as he dabs at his sockets. That copy he… he was taking this not the hardest, but, he was the most emotive of them all when it came to loss. “You can keep it, Blue. Don’t worry, do you think you can handle us starting today?”</p><p> </p><p>He nods, grip on the tissue box tight, even as his voice wavers, “I’m Paw-sitive That I Can Handle It,”</p><p> </p><p>She offers up a smile, returning to her seat at the head of the circle her fingers slip into that familiar triangle shape, “Now, I know last week we had a free-form session, but…” Sans shifts uncomfortably, today could be touchy. Free-from was good… they could talk about whatever and share what they thought was relevant it was… easier. Structured things just made him think of… “You all remember that guest I talked about possibly bringing in today?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a chorus of <em> yes </em> in it’s many different forms and Jaws’s shifting as his leg bounces on the tile. Which. Odd. “How could we forget, you made us sign <em> more </em>papers,” </p><p> </p><p>Her smile is sharp as she cuts a look at him, “I did. So that I was certain that you were all in <em> agreeance </em> and that even with the warnings I talked to you about that you would try to react in a <em> healthy </em> way,” Maple made it sound like the apocalypse was happening. They’d all already been through that. “It is because of that guest today, that I think we should have a structured discussion today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s cut to the damn chase then, lady, th’ fuck’re we talking about today?” </p><p> </p><p>“Eloquent as always, Red,” The skeleton just gives a wolfish grin, toying with the collar around his neck. It was the only thing that wasn’t necessarily <em> his</em>, as he’d shared. It didn’t take them long to understand what he meant by that (or for Sans to consider whatever their universe was like was <em> appropriate)</em>. Maple offers up another smile, small and nervous as she clears her throat, “I think, right now we should talk about our week. Maybe something you were proud of? Disappointed in? If not that then… what you thought coming to this session?”</p><p> </p><p>Surprisingly, it’s Red who pipes up first looking uncharacteristically solemn. “Why’s that fuckin’ matter? ‘S not like talking about this shit is really going to do anything when he’s not,” oh. This was one of his <em> moments</em>. Maple just gives another smile, not even trying to stop his rant because they were supposed to <em> hear </em> out each other’s thoughts and struggles. Not blame them for having them. “He’s not fuckin’ <em> dead </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“Red, I understand that denial can be a safety net, but he is gone.” It’s soft, as it always is when she’s talking about grief and how they’re all stuck in a different place. Red’s was denial. He refused to believe that anyone was gone, most importantly his own brother, and sure. Sans could understand it, they all could. But denial only helped for so long. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s <em> not,” </em> It’s a snarl this time, the grip he has on the stress ball Maple had recommended him on the first session bulging out like it might pop. Still, Red stays put, a shimmer of blue shielding him as a measure to make sure he keeps himself <em> put</em>. “This is all just… it’s just a fuckin’ ploy by the kid! They do this shit, they take things <em> away </em>again and again and again. He’s fuckin’ coming back and’ll,” </p><p> </p><p>“You’ll do better?” She already knew about the resets. Blue had come clean first, and was relieved that he didn’t have to bottle it in now that there were other monsters that understood the constant grief. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yes! </em> ” Everyone else looks away as the more volatile of them all chokes up, his claws shaking around the ball he has in his hands. Sans doesn’t. He stares him down, catalogs the way Red pants in anger? Sadness? A horrid mix of the two, he settles on. Watches as the blue entwines with red as he struggles with the need to pace and stay put. To be <em> kind </em> or to be <em> ruthless </em> . “I’d rend that fuckin’ monster to pieces if I had to, i’d <em> keep </em> him somewhere else this time, I’d…” He stills, just like the rest of them do, dark thoughts, a constant that all of them have had. Will have. Will have to <em> push </em> down. He chokes up, magic making his font look crooked and sound hoarse, “I’d <em> hurt him </em> and I’d fucking hate it.” </p><p> </p><p>If Blue was the most emotive, Red was the quickest to realize how bad his actions were… even if he struggled to stop them the most.</p><p> </p><p>“That wouldn’t help, would it Red?”</p><p> </p><p>He slumps into his seat, the fight drained out of him from his own train of thoughts, “Boss would’ve fukin’ hated me if I did that,” The chuckle he lets out is self-deprecating if Sans had ever heard one. “He’d hate it if I did that to a kid wouldn’t he?”</p><p> </p><p>“You knew him better than me, what do you think?”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, the grip he has on the ball loosens up. “He’d want me to <em> Get Off My Ass And Be The Monster I Know You To Be,” </em> He says, imitating the higher pitch and shape of his font, “ <em> Go Scare Some Kids If You Really Have To But Try To Be Happy! </em>Boss would’ve wanted me to try…”</p><p> </p><p>Maple smiles, “Let's try again then?”</p><p> </p><p>He huffs when everyone looks at him, his jacket zipping up all the way to hide his face, ‘’m going’ last this time, one of you little shits share!” </p><p> </p><p>Swallowing, Sans tries to think. Has he really been productive at all? Twisting a hand into the sleeves of his hoodie he leans forward to signal he wants to talk, “i, uh, nothin’ really big has happened.” he ignores the snippity <em> why the fuck are ya talkin’ then </em> as his brain wracks itself into a web. “I… I put his stuff away,” He feels his soul crack down the middle as he admits it; it had hurt. So much. Those were the <em> last </em> things he had and he put them up, because Papyrus was <em> gone </em> and looking at it made him miserable and he shouldn’t feel <em> miserable. </em>The grief and the memories would stay forever but… he didn’t want to feel miserable when he thought of Papyrus. “I felt like shit… like if i did it I was…”</p><p> </p><p>He blanks, fingers creaking under his hold until he catches himself, inhaling deeply as he lets them go. “As if I was trying to get rid of him…” Because that’s what he was doing wasn’t he? He was hiding everything of Papyrus’, putting it in places he’d never have to see again, never having to confront how he failed. “And <em> hide </em>his things so that I didn’t… so that I didn’t have to think of him anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think it’s helped?” <em> does it fucking look like it was helping? </em></p><p> </p><p>He shrugs, head tilted down so he doesn’t have to look at them. It wasn’t. He felt like he was running again. “I don’t… I don't want to continue that train if we could, somebody else wanna take over the track?” Because Maple has mentioned numerous times that they don’t have to share more than they want to… to be honest he doesn’t want to share anything at all.</p><p> </p><p>Silence bubbles from the room as miss Maple gives them time. So he watches. Watches the way that Jaws shifts around in his seat, head tucked into his shirt, how Razz picks at his nail (as if he <em> didn’t care at all</em>; and Sans wanted to gut the fucker. Wanted to scream and yell and rant that <em> he doesn’t belong if he didn’t care </em> ! But he did. For some reason. Was undergoing <em> grief </em>somehow). His gaze settles on Blue, heavy and tired as he watches the shortest of them all wring another tissue in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>Blue was… like Papyrus in some ways. He hated it. He really did. Because in <em> Blue’s </em>universe the Papyrus copy had to fight the child. Could never win because he couldn’t bring himself to really harm anyone, and Blue had to watch. Watch with the rest of the underground as he was cut in two and unable to do anything—  then it reset. Papyrus wasn’t back, and Blue had been a fucking wreck when the barrier shattered on its own with no human to be seen. </p><p> </p><p>A sniffle, quiet as a mouse as Blue digs something out his pocket; some smokes, or really <em> novelty </em> smokes. “I Tried Visiting His Grave,” He hiccups out a laugh, fingers toying with the box and Sans can’t help but pity him. Blue was probably making the most progress of them all but… this definitely fucked him over a bit more than most (none of them had died first, and not in the way that Blue always found himself dying. They didn’t have to watch their brother’s journey the way Blue did, no wonder he was a bit more... ) it didn’t help that people didn’t usually take him seriously. It was as if most people simply <em> forgot </em> Papyrus existed. Some remembered… but most. “He… He Always Used These For Fun To, To Joke With Muffet, I Thought,” The tears bubble over as he ignores them, “I Thought That Me An’ Undyne.. She.. She Was His Best Friend Y’know? I Thought We Could Visit Him Today. Leave Pappy Some Of His Favorite Things… I Couldn’t Leave Them. I, I Tried So <em> Hard,” </em></p><p> </p><p>Miss Maple rises from her chair to grab another box of tissues, placing them next to Blue in case he wants them. “It’s okay, dear. These things are difficult… how was the visit?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wonderful,” He chokes, covering one of his sockets with his hand as he tries to stem the slow, “We… We <em> Talked! </em>I Know… We Know He’s Not There, But,”</p><p> </p><p>“Was it still nice to talk to his things?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm, I Know He’s Gone… But. I Don’t Want To Forget Him,” He settles, the box of novelty cigarettes held as carefully as a flower, a sad smile on his skull. “I Just… i Still Want Him To Know We Miss Him… That… That We’re Trying.”</p><p> </p><p>Miss Maple doesn’t reach for him. Never reaches for them because this is supposed to be about words instead of actions. That they should learn how to be a group in word first before they tried actions. “That makes sense, Blue. Is there anything else you’d like to share?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not Right Now, Please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, boys?” She looks at the last two, an open expression on her face as she makes it back to her seat. “What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>Razz looks up from his nails, a haughty look on his face as he scans everyone else’s expression. Pausing on the glower Sans points at him, with nothing but a raised lid as he sits up straight, leg crossing as if this was some conversation over tea. “I Am… <em> Disappointed  </em>In This Session.”</p><p> </p><p>Sans feels his finger twitch as the prick stays calm and aloof as ever (how was he <em> grieving? </em> He was <em> blaming </em> the rest of them. Acting as if he wasn’t affected Sans didn’t understand!) glancing at each and every one of them. </p><p> </p><p>“How so?”</p><p> </p><p>He taps his fingers against his knee, a slow constant motion as he hums. “<em> They  </em>Failed. I Did No Such Thing,” Sans isn’t the only one that snarls at the sentence more than annoyed at the way Razz was ‘dealing’ with his grief, even as the loud ringing <em> boys behave! </em> Echoes in the closed room. “My <em> Brother </em> Was Not Strong Enough. That Is All There Is.”</p><p> </p><p>With a sign Maple focuses her attention on Razz. “Do you not see yourself as something part of that possible failure?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” It’s quick. Simple. As if all of this was a waste of Razz’s time. “I Raised Him. I Fed Him. I <em> Protected  </em>Him. His <em> Death  </em>Is How He Paid My Kindness. He Was Not Strong Enough, He Failed <em> Me.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>“You’re the older brother fuck face,” It’s a growl as Red stares daggers at the taller monster even as Maple moves to intervene, “It’s yer fuckin’ job to do that when you willingly take someone in.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is <em> enough</em>, we will come back to this during another session. Jaws, if you would, please,” </p><p> </p><p>The largest of them all shuffles where he sits, hunching to make himself smaller as he casts a hurried glance at the door, “we— <em> I, </em>I,” Sans feels his bones rise at the sudden nerves on the beast’s part. He was even sweating. Must’ve really done something bad. “I managed to uh, to walk through the meat aisle?” </p><p> </p><p>Maple gives him a smile even for his awkward answer, “That’s good isn’t it? You faced something that unsettled you,”</p><p> </p><p>“Heh, i uh. I guess it was a <em> poultry </em>fear when it came down to it,” Another wave of snickers as Jaws’ slouch gets even more even, his smile not as twitchy. “‘M we’re gonna try somethin’ new for dinner i guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well you can tell us how that goes next week can’t you?” He gives a bobble of a nod, his awkward smile never really disappearing. Though his leg seems to bounce more forcefully, his hands tucked away where no one can see them. Sans eyes it. Jaws was twitchy by nature… this was a new kind of twitchy. As if he was <em> scared </em>of something. “Now, boys,” She waits until all of them look at her, a nervous glint in her eyes visible to each of them. “That guest I mentioned… do you all remember how I said that your therapy would include something called exposure therapy?”</p><p> </p><p>All around, slow, nervous nods are given as an answer. They would be facing something related to their fears or trauma to help them navigate it, or learn how to <em> appropriately </em> deal with it in a healthier way than what they were doing.</p><p> </p><p>He hears Jaws’ teeth grind as miss Maple gives another nervous smile in his direction, “If you would please, Jaws?” His sockets shift around to look at them all in a way that a cornered animal might as the scent of ozone fills the room, that pulsing <em> red, red, red </em> of his intent visible on his very being as he lumbers to the door. </p><p> </p><p>Sans gaze stays locked on the door blocked by the bulk of Jaws’ size, able to hear the hushed voices, but not sure what was being said. He feels the room chill and spark with magic as Jaws returns, another skeleton holding his arm as spooked as a doe— </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Pap,”  </em>He’s kept back by a wavering wall of bone, the copies of him doing much the same as soon as they’d seen him. Uncaring of the snarl pointed at all of them in warning as Jaws eased himself in front. “What the fuck is wrong with his <em> teeth? </em>” He watches the taller skeleton flinch and feels his soul pierce itself with his own anger, “Fuck, Pap, i— “</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Sweetpea, </em> ” It echoes around the room with the amount of magic that’s poured into the name as Jaws backs himself and his brother away from the group so that miss Maple can herd them back to their seats with a stern look and even sterner words that fall deaf as Sweetpea grips his arm a little tighter. Why did he agree to this? Why did the <em> both </em> of them agree to this? “The name’s fuckin’ Sweetpea and <em> his </em>teeth are fucking fine!” He only feels a little calmer when the lot of vultures are back in their seats, Maple coming to slip through the wall of bone to pull their chairs a little ways away from the group. </p><p> </p><p>“Boys, if you could. Think on what you just did,” He leads Sweetpea to their seats as their therapist addresses the rest of the group, unwilling to leave his brother’s side for the time being. He <em> knew </em>they would react like fucking animals.</p><p> </p><p>“‘M Okay,” He leans his head to the side nudging Sweetpea with his shoulder so his little brother will sit up straight. He even laughs, a soft little thing as they both calm down from the barrage, “Just A Little Startled Is All… I Didn’t Expect… Such An Enthusiastic Welcome,”</p><p> </p><p>He snorts finally turning back into the conversation to find the entire group focused on them so intently that his neck prickles from the perceived threats. Shifting he scoots his chair so that he’s still hiding his brother from complete view. </p><p> </p><p>Miss Maple’s smile is strained from where she stands to the side of them. “As I said. This,” She motions with her hand, and with a small encouragement his brother waves, careful to keep his scarf tugged high, “Is Sweetpea. He is Jaws’ <em> brother</em>, a version of Papyrus if you will, but he is not a replacement for the people you <em> lost </em>. So, please do not treat him as such— “</p><p> </p><p>“But, he’s right fuckin’ there doc,” Jaws’ gaze shifts to red a low rumble starting in his chest at the unfocused stare. Sweetpea wasn’t a fucking replacement for anyone! “How can you say that’s <em> not </em> him?’</p><p> </p><p>Maple gives him a look, clearing her throat before she continues. “Before I was rudely interrupted, are any of you the exact same?” She waits for the stilted no’s as their attention is forcibly changed as they answer her. “That’s right. You are different versions of one another, but that does not make you the <em> same. </em> It is the same for Sweetpea here. He may <em> look </em> like your sibling, but he is not him. Now, tell me what you did that was inappropriate gentlemen?”</p><p> </p><p>“We… We Rushed Him Without Consent?” She gives Blue a nod, a finger going up to list that it was one of the things that they did that was inappropriate.</p><p> </p><p>Sans shifts in his seat, eyes focused on the scarf around Pap— <em> Sweetpea’s </em> face, a clog in his mouth as he forces it to work. “I assumed he was… that he was my brother.” Another finger. “And commented on something that I shouldn’t have.” A third.</p><p> </p><p>When Red and Razz refuse to give an answer she sighs, moving her own chair next to the siblings. “That’s a start. Now, we discussed this rather early when the group was formed as a potential example of exposure therapy to help all of you deal with your grief and trauma in an appropriate way. Especially the way you think you would deal with things if given another chance— I want it to be very clear that this is <em> not </em>another chance. Rather, a way for you to understand that your actions can negatively impact you and someone similar to your brothers. Mainly the drastic measure you all have mentioned when it comes to said non-existent second chances for your siblings.”</p><p> </p><p>The flinch that they all give could be <em> heard </em>with how in-sync they are. A heavy cloud of shame forms as their thoughts drift back to some of the things they shared in the group. “Sweetpea is under the same confidentiality agreement that you are, however, this is a unique case because of what exactly we’re dealing with. Due to that, there is some leniency. You all, will, with proper consent and monitoring be interacting with Sweetpea in group for random sessions, as well as outside of the group as long as I am informed and you have Jaws’ and Sweetpea’s permission to do so. Am I clear?”</p><p> </p><p>“Doc,” All their gazes sweep over to Red who’s grip on the collar is deathly tight from how his claws dig into the material (Something he would no doubt regret later today. The all knew how much he treasured the thing), “we’re...” He swallows, a nervous burgundy spreading across his skull as his nerves make him clammy, make him snappish, make him <em> impulsive. </em> But he doesn’t move from where he sits, just lets his gaze rove over Sweetpea like a man starved for water. “Yer sayin’ that we have to… to what? Act like he’s <em> not </em> a fuckin’ split image? As if he’s not the very fuckin’ thing we failed? That we <em> lost!” </em> </p><p> </p><p>“That’s right. Sweetpea is not a replacement for anyone. He is here of his own consent to try and <em> help </em> you. I am aware that he looks similar to your own brothers, but, via in vivio exposure he is here to help you recognize how each and every one of you can grow. To help you recognize what behaviors were negative and unhealthy— starting with the fact that he is <em> not </em> your sibling. He is Jaws’ and only Jaws’. All of you share some core qualities: you have a fear of seeing your brother die, of failing in some way, of <em> blaming </em> yourself,” Here specifically, Sans sees Razz flinch in a way that it makes it seem he was hit. “I want you to start with recognizing how Sweetpea is different from your own sibling. Only then, can we continue with the trauma and grief intrinsically related to your sibling.”</p><p> </p><p>“His teeth,” It’s hoarse as he says it, forcing himself not to leap from his spot as Pap— Sweetpea shrinks in on himself, as Jaws snarls at him. How had Jaws fucked up so badly for him to be so <em> deformed </em> to be so <em> monstrous?  </em>“His teeth are man— “</p><p> </p><p>“That is <em> enough </em> ,” Maple’s voice rings out in the chaos of the room. “You will not use such language in or outside of this room Classic. It is inappropriate and <em> rude</em>. We have already discussed how individual images are personal and that <em> you </em> shouldn’t comment on them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes ma’am,” It’s still quiet as he watches the other skeleton hide away from him, his soul shriveling in his ribs. He caused that. <em> He </em> caused that. <em> He caused that. </em> Pap— <em> Sweetpea, Sweetpea, Sweetpea </em> get it in your head Sans. They were different (they looked the same—  so soft. So fragile. So tall. So… so much like the monster Sans had failed over and over to save), that he feels his vision swim and the rattling of his bones as his mind struggled to comprehend that it wasn’t <em> his </em>Papyrus. “‘M. i, i shouldn’t have said that, i,”</p><p> </p><p>“No shit Sherlock,” Red’s grip on his collar has finally lightened enough that he’s trying to even out the indents he caused. No longer looking at the rest of them, “I call Dibs,”</p><p> </p><p>“My brother ain’t something you call fuckin’ <em> dibs </em> on, jackass,” There’s a laugh and each every one of them swivel their heads like a hound on blood as Sweetpea giggles to himself the grip he has on Jaws’ arm loosening in his laughter, “oh, no c’mon pumpkin’ don’t go laughin’ at me now!” </p><p> </p><p>“A’right, ‘s easy now,” Still Red’s gaze doesn’t lose its unfocused sheen as he soaks in a face that was so much like <em> Boss’s </em> but wasn’t. He wonders, just briefly, if they had been in a better place (like this one? No the place didn’t really matter...) or had been more open, more… <em> honest </em> with one another instead of tough and scathing as they grew if they could’ve been so close? Red had cared, and he knew… Boss had too… but they were so. So consumed with gathering rank to survive that things had gotten lost in the process… like their nicknames, their games. He squeezes his eyes shut… he probably never would have called Papyrus something so… <em> cutesy </em> , but maybe they could’ve come up with something before it was too late. Red had. He had <em> so many chances </em> and he took them for granted. “Could… just lemme hang out with ya first, that’s all ‘m fuckin’ asking.”</p><p> </p><p>And Jaws stares. Red never asked for shit. He looks over to his brother, cataloging the micro-expressions he makes as he looks over the group and thinks of his own opinions of each and every skeleton in here. Red… wasn’t a terrible choice. He was brash… crude even like himself at times… but not bad and the Monster in his soul didn’t rage so violently at the idea of them hanging out. He didn’t necessarily like… or really trust any of them… but Red wasn’t the worst.</p><p> </p><p>“Right, Because Two <em> Brutes </em> Is Such A Wonderful Combination,” Which… was something most of them would expect from Razz if he had any expression except the one he had right now. Exactly. All wide-eyed and not really there; it was frankly soul churning seeing such an expression on the usually scathing skeleton. “As If Red Out Of All Of Us Was The Proper Choice To Start This Off When My Great And Malicious Self Is Present.” Because honestly this… Sweetpea, besides the height and the fragility that was evident in each and every bone visible was like Slim. He knew he was supposed to focus on how they were <em> different </em> and he <em> would. </em> But… would it really be so bad to indulge himself this one thing? </p><p> </p><p>Slim had… was of poor constitution. A second attempt at creating a less <em> willful </em> pawn for the scientist to play with. And Sure. Razz had been tough with him, but he <em> needed to. Don’t you understand Slim? This was how the world worked! If you didn’t grow a fucking spine then how would you protect yourself? How would I know that you were safe! </em> It wasn’t the best way he knew now. Plagued with nights and days of visions of the past he wished he could’ve done differently. Been <em> kind </em> instead of trying to teach Slim that brutality was necessary to survive the hate and the pain that the world would throw them. And he’d failed. His little brother was so… <em> soft </em> because Slim wasn’t weak. He’d never been weak. He had survived life with Razz after all and he’d…</p><p> </p><p>His fist shakes from how hard he squeezes it in his lap. He’d tried to rectify it far too late. </p><p> </p><p>Jaws’ face twists up, a flash of something else taking place as the colors in his eyelight shifts and his teeth bare themselves like a wild dog, a rumble that shakes the room bursting from him even as Sweetpea slowly talks him down from whatever it was. “<em> No,” </em></p><p> </p><p>He narrows his sockets, of course the brute would get in the way. “And Why Not?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t fuckin’ trust ya tha’s fuckin’ why.”</p><p> </p><p>“But You Trust, Red?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Don’t trust none of ya, Red’s just the one that’s not being fucking creepy.”</p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes, but goes back to digging at his nails, the image of dust still stuck between the joints flashing in his head even as he grinds his teeth to keep it at bay. </p><p> </p><p>Miss Maple offers up another sigh, “Well, boys our time for this week is up. Jaws, Sweetpea, if you agree to any meetings outside of the group let me know please?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaws nods, before hurriedly leading his brother away from the vultures, “They’re Not… So Bad,”</p><p> </p><p>He snorts, “They were lookin’ at you like you were a <em> thing, </em> pumpkin’.” Sweetpea just squeezes his wrist a fond look on his skull and oh no. He was <em> really </em> giving this some though, “Shugs, c’mon now yer not really thinkin’ of doing that outside of planned meetin’s are ya?”</p><p> </p><p>Sweetpea hums, his steps so light in comparison to his own heavy ones as they turn the corner to exit the place. An ease finally coming over him as they get farther away from the other skeletons he just… he didn’t trust any of them. They had <em> rushed </em> his brother like dogs that had starved (which he <em> knew </em>what that was like and it wasn’t fuckin’ pretty. He was not putting his brother through that shit again) and were finally, finally being given something to tear into; with gusto he’d add. At least in the group he had the doctor to help keep the others in their places… outside of it… what. What if he messed up? </p><p> </p><p>(you could always just get rid of them couldn’t yo— <em> no! </em> He had. Jaws was past that, he was! He was doing so fucking well, they both were). </p><p> </p><p>“I Don’t Know… Maybe… Maybe It Could Help? All Of Us, Not Just Them… They’re Not You, And I Know That,” The snarl on his face eases out as the Monster purrs at the assertion, pleased with the knowledge that Sweetpea wasn’t struggling like the mongrels were. “So… Perhaps It Could Be Easier To Tell Them No? To Help Them And Myself? I Can Help Them Recognize That I Can’t… I Can’t Be Someone That I’m Not, But I Can Still Be A Friend, And They Can Help Me Getting Used To Setting Boundaries?”</p><p> </p><p>He swallows, squeezing Sweetpea’s hand briefly, “Let’s… lets think it over this weekend? And,” and what? It wasn’t like he would tell Sweetpea no if he really thought this would help <em> him </em>. Because. Jaws… he wanted them both to get better, and he was right. This could help. “And… if you’re sure we can… we can talk about it.”</p><p> </p><p>Sweetpea smiles down at him, a genuine thing and Jaws feels his soul shake in its place. He had a terrible feeling about all of this. “Thank You, Brother,”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, i know, shugs, therapy’s the best fuckin’ thing we’ve tried.” </p><p> </p><p>The walk home is filled with laughter and jokes as Sweetpea shares what he can about his own private sessions and the recipes he wanted to his brother to try with him throughout the week. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jaws: *uncomfortable with people around him or sweetpeea*</p><p>Sweetpea: Wow Your Friends Seem Great! Can't Wait To Learn More!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pre-Group Interview; Individual Therapy: Razz</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warnings: Derogatory language, victim blaming throughout the chapter in various instances, projection, discussions of abuse and redirection of involvement/blame, a visual re-enactment of past abuse.</p><p>I ended up wanting to write a little about Razz before i continued with the main flow of everything else, because I felt like i needed to share bits of his struggling recovery process. Grief as an Abusive party can be... messy. it can be manipulative and dangerous to yourself because you have a learned behavior of needing to control something or someone. Unfortunately Razz is going to have a bit of a rough time with it because he's dealing with a lot of shit.</p><p>and as a note this is set quite a bit before the first chapter so he's... a bit more volatile here than the first chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Razz looks at the woman blankly, hands placed carefully over his knee as she droned on and on about her achievements. It had been maybe ten or so minutes? Something like that, “Yes, I Am Well Aware Of Your,” He waves a hand at her wall holding her degrees and diplomas. “Ms. Klein. Can We Please Get To The Point.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was already attending sessions with Paterson, was that not enough? Ms. Klein clears her throat, fingers carefully holding the pen in her hand; it was so frail. Unmarred by scars or calluses. No work that required her hands then, just like the Mutt. The scowl dips as she starts talking again, “Then, with my credentials out of the way, Dr. Paterson, has reached out to me in an attempt to see if group would be a positive experience for you. Do You know what a group is Mr. Serif?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The look he gives her could boil water, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I Am Not Some Imbecile, Paterson Has Discussed It Briefly Before Asking Of My… Interest For Such A Thing.” At her prompting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what did he bring up with you?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He gives a bereaved sigh, “That Interacting With Others Similar To Myself Might Be… Beneficial To My Growth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her smile seems genuine enough as she writes something down on her clipboard, and still he can’t help but eye it like it was a threat. Razz detested these places, it was too much like the lab… too colorless and barren like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Well, this particular group would be a bit unique as it is,” her eyebrows pinch. His hand squeezes at his knee. “It’s well, meant for individuals like yourself who… intimately experienced what a continuous loop might be,” in simpler terms; other Sans’ who experienced resets. Now common knowledge since they’ve all surfaced. That was just lovely. “And is a counselling program designed specifically for those of you who have experienced such. Its purpose is to address the impacts it had on your lives and enhance your well-being.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tapping starts up as his expression smooths out. He had thought it silly at first, to allow himself to do such a… nonsensical action, why shouldn’t he just dig into his claws like before? Do unto himself as he did the mutt? He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough to handle it; unlike the damn dog. “How Would This Be Structured?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile brightens up; as if Razz would nary give it a thought. Foolish. Everyone here was so foolish. His scowl comes back until she tucks the mocking thing away, everyone assumed he was above such things, but it was hardly so simple. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Razz</span>
  </em>
  <span> was perfect, would accept nothing less than perfection and these were simple stepping stones to it. He wouldn’t allow another to fail him, to see his kindness as something to take for </span>
  <em>
    <span>granted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for them to misunderstand that everything he did was to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help you Mutt! Why don’t you understand that I push you to be stronger, like me! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another squeeze as his claws nearly dig through the bone of his hand. If only he could’ve brought along that book his therapist had recommended. Alas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The group would alternate on being free-form and semi-structured depending on the week. It will cover different topics each week including: self-care and your individual well-beings. Understanding your trauma and the healthy expression of emotions.The effect of trauma on your mental health as well as a reconstructing and discussing how your coping can be improved.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t… too different than what he was already doing. “How Long Would The Sessions Be?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An hour or two depending on everyone’s availability and would be in the early morning on Tuesday as the majority of you have individual sessions on every day except then,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How Many.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles again, “It’s a small group Mr. Serif. As I am sure you’re aware… However, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you before I ask you some questions, is that okay?” He just tilts his head in acknowledgement, still uncertain about interacting with anyone besides the human he’s been sitting down with for a month or so now. “This group will potentially have a guest once the bare minimum amount of time of participating has passed, this guest would be used as a way for you all to face a fear of yours, or an uncertainty that you have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I Have No Such </span>
  <em>
    <span>Weakness</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Another note on her board and he feels his soul rattle in annoyance. Who was she to dictate that he had such a thing? That he might regret anything? That he had anything that could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>faced</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “The Other’s Might, But I Most Certainly Do Not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then, how about this, would you be adverse to participating in a group where others might have such things that they do have to face?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” It wasn’t any problem of his if other monsters were weak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then, let’s start shall we,” She shifts, smoothing out her coat as she moves one paper atop another, friendly smile all but gone as she looks at him, or through him. He can’t really tell. “What would you like to get out of this group, Mr. Serif?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What did he want? (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mutt scrambles away from him, a quiet wheezy noise struggling in his throat as marrow falls freely. He was scrambling </span>
  </em>
  <span>toward</span>
  <em>
    <span> the human as if they were so much better than him</span>
  </em>
  <span>—) He blinks, willing the vision away as he digs his claws into the fabric of his slacks. The ungrateful fucking skeleton was still haunting him even after these months. “To Get Over The Mutt’s Death. It’s A Waste Of Time.” (because Razz had done fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to keep him alive. To make him </span>
  <em>
    <span>stronger.</span>
  </em>
  <span> To get him used to the horrors of life and then the mutt had fucking died leaving him with nothing to do. Nothing to control. Nothing to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hid</span>
  </em>
  <span>— nothing left to sculpte.) “it’s Limiting My Ability To Be Productive,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What would you like to be different at the end of the group? It can be a short term goal or a long term one. Just anything at all that comes to mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>please forgive yourself, ‘m so, m’lord please! You can forgive yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another inhale as he was instructed, grip still tight on his pants. He wanted the fucking book. “The Ability To Be As Productive As I Used To Be. I Dislike This… Constant Visiting To Determine My Mental Health.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has there been anything that has helped you achieve a productivity level that you approve of? Or, are there things you know that haven’t worked?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grinds his teeth as the mutt’s screams echo in his head, as the dust clings to his uniform after what the little </span>
  <em>
    <span>creature</span>
  </em>
  <span> had done to them. “Writing,” He’s proud at least, that his voice doesn’t dare to waver even with the images blinking in and out. “Paterson Has Me Write. Ignoring The Dog Does Not Help. He Keeps Himself Attached To Me As A Parasite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you believe that your family history has influenced your goals? Or even some problems tha tou face? Remember Mr. Serif you don't have to share anything in depth if you wouldn’t like to. This is a private conversation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>He knew that. He </span><em><span>knew</span></em><span> that. He </span><em><span>understands that you</span></em><span>—</span> <span>his mouth opens on its own any way, hands shaking even as he tries to force some semblance of control over them (why wouldn’t they still? He wasn’t </span><em><span>weak</span></em><span>, why was he showing weakness? He wanted to tear them of— </span><em><span>please forgive yourself, i do. You can be better</span></em><span>—)</span> <span>“Yes.” It closes. Teeth grinding as his expression twists. Opens again. “My </span><em><span>Family</span></em><span> Is The Reason So Many Things Are Fucked, Ms. Klein. I Would Like To Rectify A Previous Statement: My Goal Is To Be Less…” </span><em><span>he wasn’t violent </span></em><span>(you were) </span><em><span>that was life </span></em><span>(it didn’t have to be), “Less Violent.” His soul shrivels in on itself as the words ring aloud, as if punishing him for </span><em><span>trying</span></em><span> to acknowledge what he did. Because he shouldn’t have to.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Slim knew their universe was difficult.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They both did! Razz was just… he was just teaching him. Breaking him into the world so that nothing else could harm him. Razz had to (—</span>
  <em>
    <span>the shattering of bone echoes in his head</span>
  </em>
  <span>—) or else Slim would’ve dusted such a long fucking time ago and Razz would’ve been alone; but he was now wasn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ms. Klein places a tissue box in front of him, slow and deliberate before her hand backs away and Razz wants to… to what? Grab it? As he’d done so many times to the mutt when he was being presumptuous? When he’d been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>naive</span>
  </em>
  <span> and went outside without permission and gotten hurt and Razz had to punish him and the offender?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t cry. Razz couldn’t cry. “How often do you find yourself getting angry when your family is brought up, Mr. Serif?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too Often,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When your family was around, what did you do to express your anger?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…” He swallows, moving his hands away slowly so that he can wrap the tissues around a scratch he’d created. “I Would Get Physical With Them. I Blamed Them. I Wouldn’t Listen To Them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think that you could handle discussing this in a group setting?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Talking About It Here Aren’t I?” The laugh he gives out is more like a bark; clipped short and bubbling with emotion. “I Can Do It. It Is… Not Something Encouraged But He Would Benefit From It I’m Sure…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighs, her clipboard being moved before she laces her hands together. “Mr. Serif. I will be honest with you. I am hesitant to allow you to join due to how… you discuss your problems. If you can make a conscious effort to control how you refer to the object of your grief I can allow you a trial period within the group, but if it alongside your individual therapy does not show signs of improvement in your vocabulary—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” He hangs his head, sockets squeezed shut as Slim’s face flashes about. Happy. Sad. Fearful. Awe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Joy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They had both failed. It couldn’t have just been his fault. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have, but. He was trying, wasn't he? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t you fucking see that I was trying now Slim!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Let Me Have The Trial. Paterson. He, He Thinks I’ve Made Some Improvement. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>Want</span>
  </em>
  <span> To Get Better,” does he? Or does he just want to keep ignoring what was really his fault? Argue about it. Yell and rage about how others failed him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Serif,” He shakes, willing away the instinctual need to dig his hands into something to stop the weakness. “I cannot promise you anything. I have to look over my notes and give it some thought, but, I will certainly let you know if a trial period would be appropriate. Thank you for your time.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stares down at the photo held so carefully in his hands, homework set aside for the moment. It was one of the last things he had from Slim, an old grainy photo. He traces his thumb over the top of the mutt’s head, “Why Were You So Fucking Weak,” He doesn’t want to acknowledge that words trembled as he spoke them; it was the Mutt’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>fault</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he was like this. “I Did Everything For You. Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sets it aside even as the rage builds up. His therapist had told him he’d regret it is he tore it to shreds (what the fuck did he know?), still his fists curl as soon as its put aside. They shake as he looks around the room. What was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> room because the mutt couldn’t fucking take care of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re Supposed To Be Here! I Was Making Sure That You Would Make It!” He feels the swirl of magic rather than sees it as his vision swims. It coalesces, smoothing out into a familiar form that makes his hand itch with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to grab. The mouth opens, no sounds, no font, no nothing as he thinks of what the mutt used to tell him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you can’t keep doing this</span>
  </em>
  <span> always so softly. Always so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He finds himself squeezing a hand around the mutt’s mouth before he can even think. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tighter, tighter, tighter</span>
  </em>
  <span> until the whimpering booms in his head like a warning, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I Can,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because You Need To Learn Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>Place,</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even if he hurt the mutt things would go </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They always went back. He never had to think of his actions, never had to worry if he’d go too far. It hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>mattered</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>A hand comes up to scramble at his wrist, no real fight, no wounds. If the Mutt wasn’t fucking fine with this why hadn’t he fought back? Razz has </span><em><span>taught </span></em><span>him how. He knew! With a hiss he digs a hand toward the mutt’s eye socket applying pressure until he feels part of it give (The Mutt should know by now. </span><em><span>No one but Razz was allowed to fucking deal with him</span></em><span>). The whimper ricochets through all of him, a warbled </span><em><span>stop m’lord i didn’t mean to</span></em><span>—</span> <span>“</span><em><span>You Did!</span></em><span>” This is the only way the mutt would learn! Fear would teach him his place. </span><em><span>Pain</span></em><span> would show him right from wrong; that </span><em><span>Razz was right.</span></em><span> “You </span><em><span>Let </span></em><span>Them Hurt You! I Did Everything To Keep Them Away! And What Did You Do?”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tears start to fall even as the magic wavers, breaking under his hands as the soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘m sorry i didn’t mean to please</span>
  </em>
  <span>— </span>
  <em>
    <span>please stop m’lord we can be better, we can</span>
  </em>
  <span> whips through like a tornado as the bone shatters, the powder staining his hands. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>Failed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>Were The One Who Didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>Listen. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why DId You Keep FIghting Me? I Wanted To </span>
  <em>
    <span>Protect </span>
  </em>
  <span>You. Why Couldn’t You Understand?” His entire form shakes as he hunches over the pile of bone, grasping at the ratty old jacket the magic had grabbed from the closet. “Come Back. I Can Be Better— I </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will </span>
  </em>
  <span>Be Better. Like You Wanted. Just. Come Back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The powder shifts as he moves, clings to his joints and hides in every crevice it can as Razz rights himself. Hands fisted into the jacket he moves back to his work station, the ratty things cradled into his lap. “I Can Be Better Slim… I Can.” The other skeleton would never come back though. He’d wasted all their time together. The words in his journal blur together. They were testing the ABC Model this week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>What was the Activating Event (A): </b>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> The situation. Briefly describe the situation that led to your unpleasant feelings.</span></li>
<li><span> Initial thought. What thought first crossed your mind? This was probably a subconscious or automatic thought that you have had before.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holding the jacket tight he lifts a wobbly hand, watching as the dust falls from it. Paterson had said that both writing and speaking aloud would be helpful, what better way to test it than now? He’d just… “Looking At Old Pictures Caused The Event… My Initial Thought Was That I Was Angry That I Would Never Be Able To Have Something Like That Time Again.” Razz was just… why did he feel so angry when he saw Slim? He was the older brother wasn’t he? He was just… he just wanted to protect the younger monster? How had it gotten so warped?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Beliefs (B)</b>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Negative thinking. Identify the negative thinking behind your initial thought. Choose one or more from the list of common types of negative thinking.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Source of negative belief. Can you trace your thinking back to a situation or person? Is there a deep belief or fear driving your thinking? Search your heart.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where did he even begin? There were so many he displayed. “I Demonstrated Always Being RIght, Blaming, And An Intense Version Of Control Fallacies.” He’d refused to acknowledge that there might have been a better way to teach Slim, a healthier way. He’d blamed all the failure on Slim when he was to blame for his own actions, his own want and inability to even give what his brother wanted a try. He wanted Slim to do things </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>way because because Razz was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had to be. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Otherwise. If Slim had succeeded or failed without him why would he have mattered? “I’m Sorry, See. I’m Trying, Please… Please Come Back, Just.” What? For a little while? Even though he was still distraught and barely functioning? Created a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake Slim</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take his anger out on?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shudders holding the jacket closer to his soul, hoping that there would be some kind of piece of his brother left. Why did he keep hurting him? The Underground was terrible but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Razz </span>
  </em>
  <span>is strong! Why did his brother have to be? He could’ve been— That wasn’t healthy either. He couldn’t have made Slim rely on him for everything. That was just as bad wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> Consequence (C)</b>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Consider the consequences. What are the short-term and long-term consequences if you continue to think like this?</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>This one at least is easier. They’ve talked about this already in his private sessions, about how Razz needed to acknowledge his own part in how he acted without considering the consequences. What they led up to, would continue to lead to. “Short Term… It Leads To A Continuous Growth Of Anger And Negativity That Is Eventually Released In An Unhealthy Way. Long Term I Forget How To Deal With My Problems In A Way That Doesn’t Include Violence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Disputing</b>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Challenge your thinking. Look at the evidence both for and against your thinking. Have you been in a similar situation before? What did you learn from it? What strengths do you bring to this situation?</span></li>
</ol><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Alternative thinking. The previous steps of the thought record helped you understand your thinking and lower your defenses. Now that you’ve considered the facts, write down a healthier way of thinking.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Positive belief and affirmation. Write down a statement that reflects your healthier beliefs. Find something that you can repeat to yourself.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Action plan. What action can you take to support your new thinking?</span></li>
</ol><p> </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Improvement. Do you feel slightly better or more optimistic? This step reinforces the idea that if you change your thinking, you will change your mood. </span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was a newer part of the model. He was supposed to encourage himself to think of </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> ways to confront his issues than what he was doing and try to incorporate them in life when he went through a relapse or other negative situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits back hand much more steady as he folds the jacket up neatly as he thinks. “I Have Been In… Many Situations Like This. I Often Incorporated The Same Violent Tendencies Then As I Did Now… I Don’t Think I Had Any Strengths… I Didn’t Stop In Time.” As for a healthier way of thinking… “Give Dialogue A Chance Instead Of Letting My Anger Dictate My Actions Would Be… Beneficial. I Will Try Talking First Instead Of Reacting.” As for the rest....</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t necessarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>better, more detached from everything than anything else. But, still he could give this planning a shot. That’s what Slim would’ve wanted for him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> and He could. Maybe, the resets would return? He could be an actual brother, one that didn’t do everything that he had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Slim didn’t then… maybe he could see it? Wherever he was. Could see that Razz was trying like his brother had asked every time, was trying to rectify things that he should never have done in the first place (but how else would he have learned?), tried to be better for them both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs, finishing up the homework for his past session before working up the ability to put Slim’s things away again. The photos are tucked away first, then that collar, and finally… looking down at the thing Razz smooths a hand over the fabric. Maybe… maybe he could fix it up a little? Slim would like that wouldn’t he? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Settling next to his dresser he tugs out the needle and thread he had found the first day he’d moved into the house (too large for him; but it wasn’t just him here) and carefully starts to fix it up. Stitch by stitch. Prick by prick. The light of the sun going down behind him as he ignores the ache in his soul that refuses to seal itself up.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. If you can't eat you got to...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, indeed i did write almost 8k in one day and i am tired and kind of proud. This chapter is honestly... a lot lighter than i thought it would turn out to be but it didn't want to go in any other direction so i hope you enjoy</p><p>Content Warnings: Reference/discussion of past abuse and mutual abuse. Reference to post-abuse and the aftermath of Trauma Bonding. Jokes about past abuse from a victim, some general anxiety and self-image/perception issues.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>“</b>
  <span>Sans,” it’s soft, drowsy he’d even say from where Sweetpea is tucked into the corner of their couch fingers plucking at the strands of an old pillow. He looks up from his pile on the floor still knitting away. They’d decided that a slow day after the session was needed. “I Think… I Think We Should Talk About Who We Interact With.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A scowl tugs at his mouth as he hunches over his needles so that his little brother can’t see the petulant look on his face. Jaws was… he was still scooping out the others. He said he’d try for Sweetpea and he was, but he wanted to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>before he let any of those mongrels close to his brother. He tries not to deflate at the soft touch that pats his shoulder. Sweetpea was cheating. Peeking to the side, Jaws sighs, “i know…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s the shifting of fabric, the squeal of the couch’s parts as Sweetpea moves a little closer. His expression imploring as he gets Jaws to look at him. “Can We Talk Right Now?” Jaws continues his knitting even as he gives a slow nod. The repetitive motion would keep him calm. “Thank You.” Sweetpea taps his fingers together, his expression twisted up in thought as he wonders how to really start. This wouldn’t be easy for either of them. “You Said That You Wanted Some Control Over The Situation,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i did…” He mumbles it out his scowl slowly morphing into a pout as Sweetpea gives him a look to continue. Jaws had been thinking of a way to… determine who would be a safe choice— not that any of the other Sanses were necessarily safe— it was a relatively slow process. For once for a reason besides the hole in his head; Jaws simply didn’t like any of them. “i have some thoughts, pumpkin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell Me About Them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaning his head back to look at their star covered roof he feels Sweetpea squeeze his shoulder. A silent encouragement the best way he can. The sigh he gives is as weary and as heavy as an ancient tree falling. “they’re all… still twitchy about you. what if they don’t get it through their skulls that you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>brother? Some of them have such—” such terrible things that they’ll do. Have such conviction behind it at times that Jaws feels like </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a den of wolves. Jaws is slowly, ever so slowly, tamping down the knee jerk reactions he has to perceived threats and the extreme measures he thinks of to keep them both safe… the others. Some of them keep directing back to idealities and methods that make his soul churn with unease. Words are just words until the camel’s back breaks. “— they have some… creative ideas. Some of them make me want to gnash my teeth and destroy them before they get the chance to to mix you up with someone else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d Make Sure That Didn’t Happen Though. You Know What Our Private Therapist Said— We Have To Come Up With More Peaceful Ways Of Dealing With Conflict,” He nods reaching a hand up to carefully pat at his brother’s head when he headbutts Jaws’ hand. Sweetpea was right but they made Jaws want to bare his teeth whenever they got too close. Some of them kept toeing at a line that was just barely visible and he didn’t want to risk his brother being in their line of sight when they did. But… his brother wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Why Don’t We Take A Look At Them All Individually?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His scowl comes back in full force as the Monster rages at its cage. Why did they have to talk of them? They weren’t worth the air that they breathed. Wouldn’t be any good for him or for Sweetpea they only needed each other— His brother could try all he wanted and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>mongrels </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn’t even thank him. A tug at his sweater gets the growl to fall quiet, “Brother, My Head,” Jaws yanks his hand away a whimper of apology building in him as Sweetpea just pats his head carefully. “It’s Okay. Nothing Hurt, See?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“but i—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea shushes him the baritone of his font deepening to imitate Jaws’ own </span>
  <em>
    <span>no arguing </span>
  </em>
  <span>tone, “It Was Not On Purpose. I Forgive You And You Will Do Better To Remember Next Time. That Is All You Can Do.” he pats Jaws’ head again waiting for the twist to Jaws’ face to disappear before continuing. “Let’s Try Again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sucks in a deep breath hands tucked under his legs just in case before he nods. Jaws hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. He’d keep the growl contained, the egging on from the Monster to a minimum— he could do this. Jaws could be responsible. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>resort to violence anymore. Neither of them had to anymore. Jaws was safe and so was Sweetpea, this was just a discussion. “worst to best.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” there’s another shift, the sight of Sweetpea’s candy covered pajamas coming into view before they’re knocking shoulders, his hand reaching for one of the numerous types of sticky notes they have all over the house. A matching pen being grabbed with his other hand. Jaws can’t help the smile that comes over his face— Sweetpea prepared for </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his little brother was amazing. “Who’s First? I’ll Note The Pros And Cons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>razz,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he can’t keep the hiss out of his voice though his temper is quelled by the amused, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you sound like Timmy’s dad about his neighbor</span>
  </em>
  <span> and ends up chuckling alongside Sweetpea. He was right in a way. Jaws wasn’t a large fan of Razz due to his disposition in group as well as the repeated verbal assaults against the rest of them but more often than not he saw the prickly little fucker as an annoying neighbor than anything else. He just didn’t trust the haughty skeleton around Sweetpea— they all knew about some of the things he did to his brother, </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him, treated the events like they were something that was justified. It made his soul roll in anger on the behalf of someone he never knew. “he’s too... “ he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth sending Sweetpea a pleading look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He always remembered words better now. “Quarrelsome? Contentious? Bellicos—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“bellicose!” Sweetpea giggles at the excited outburst, grabbing a different sticky note— one shaped like a book. They’d picked them up for those words that Jaws wanted to work on remembering, build up his vocabulary so that he wouldn’t fumble over not having the right words— scribbling down the word and a Sweetpea-Certified definition. “he’s such a bellicose fucker—” He winces at the look Sweetpea sends him rubbing at the back of his skull sheepishly. “—sorrry pumpkin, he’s just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>difficult </span>
  </em>
  <span>to deal with. he’s got issues with grabbin’  things without permission and gettin’ angry at nothin’. just think he’d be a bad first choice… at least until he gets his grabbing problem under control. his yapping i can, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>convince </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to stop.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sans,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“right yeah no intimidating ‘im i know,” he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> if the situation called for it but Jaws would behave up until then. They both had to try if they wanted to… if they wanted to improve their relationship for the better. The doc had laid it on pretty thick on how they </span>
  <em>
    <span>both needed a larger pool of support</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “razz is just, he’s too aggressive Sweetpea. don’t trust ‘im to behave ‘round you. ‘m not sure he’d take you saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him about anything well. and i know i can’t go </span>
  <em>
    <span>bashin’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>in skulls no more, decent </span>
  <em>
    <span>wine </span>
  </em>
  <span>or not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea huffs out a poorly hidden laugh setting the sticky note as he tries to steer the conversation back, “Who’s Next?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Skull twisting up Jaws slumps against the table to watch Sweetpea right not as much fire in the next name, “classic,” air puffs out from his nose-hole as he twists his magic to allow it, a perfect impression of those cartoon bulls with steam coming from theirs. Jaws is aware that it’s petty but Classic was an ass and he should be able to show just how much he disliked the other monster. “made </span>
  <em>
    <span>you upset,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A pencil taps at his nose bridge to cut the growl short, his eyes going cross-eyed as he focuses on it. “says shit he shouldn’t all the time. Calls us </span>
  <em>
    <span>impostors— </span>
  </em>
  <span>as if he’s somehow more put together. Only fuckin’ good i can see from him is that he might listen to your boundaries… don’t think he’d see </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>though.``</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kept calling Sweetpea nicknames that Jaws had never </span>
  <em>
    <span>once </span>
  </em>
  <span>used in their universe. Focused so much more on things that made Sweetpea happy and made him think of the tiny skeleton than something as simple as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pap</span>
  </em>
  <span>. something that made it difficult to hide just who Jaws was conversing with when guards went on the hunt for him and all the other monsters that revolted against fish-bitch. Classic was fuckin creepy. Not as bad as Razz by far but still creepy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything Else?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wracks his memory fingers playing with the spare yarn at the table so that he doesn’t grab at his socket. “when he uses your name and stops bein’ fuckin’ rude we can maybe… a very tiny maybe, give him a chance. blue’s next,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” was that… that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>smugness </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his baby brother’s voice. He casts a side eye at the other skeleton raising a brow as Sweetpea just shakes his head a smile on his face, “Nothing. I’m Just Thinking Of Something Is all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“like what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea lets out a hum, “I’ll Tell You After We Finish. Don’t Want To Get Off Topic. What Do You Think Of Blue?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brow bones furrow as he really thinks about the shortest monster. Blue was… he wasn’t creepy like Razz or even Classic he was just so… Jaws wasn’t certain that the monster wouldn’t start bawling as soon as he interacted with Sweetpea by himself. Blue wasn’t a bad monster by any means he was probably the healthiest of them all… but Jaws wasn’t set on him being the best right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“he’s nice. hasn’t called you nothin’ except your name. he’s uh, real </span>
  <em>
    <span>choked </span>
  </em>
  <span>up still so ‘m not too sure that we’d really be able to converse with him. Maybe he could be the next one?” Sweetpea hums writing out little blurbs on the notes. “damn, who woulda thought red of all the monsters would be the one you interacted first?” It’s paired with a laugh as he misses the considerate look that spreads across Sweetpea’s skull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… I Don’t Think It’s Too Odd,” He grunts in question, expression scrunched as he looks at Sweetpea. Wasn’t odd? That was a new one. “He Seems… Not Lonely, But He Reminds Me Of Us. Just A Bit. I Think He Could Be A Good Friend, Perhaps.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaws sits straight expression twisting into confusion. “uhhh, what makes you say that, sweets?” Red was… volatile. He cursed and raved and ranted and hissed at anyone that so much as said a negative word against his brother</span>
  <em>
    <span>— which not odd</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They all kind of shared that to a degree</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Red was. He was crude! He relied on puns like he needed them to survive! Red had temper issues that could give a volcano a run for its money with the heat behind his</span>
  <em>
    <span>—oh.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sends another look to his brother. Aghast at the fact that he and Red weren’t so bad after all. Jaws couldn’t say that Red was the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>successful </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the group, but he’d made progress on his temper and his violent tendencies much like Jaws himself. Had a bit of a… difficult reliance on his brother. Was from a ravaged world just like theirs. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>ookay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, i understand how he’s similar to me but. Sweets, how the fuck is he like you?” he waves his hands at the younger skeleton, “you’re soft spoken, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind</span>
  </em>
  <span> you make people smile and take care of people</span>
  <em>
    <span>— i’m doing it again!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea just gives him a little smile, his glasses scrunching up as he nods a fond look on his face. A soft pat to his head has Jaws sulking against the side of the couch, “You Caught Yourself Though. We’re Getting Better At The No Pedestals Thing. It Takes Time, You Remember That. The Doctor Said As Much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yeah… yeah i do,” He grabs a sticky of his own writing a scrambled message in his own writing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>neither you or sweetpea is perfect. You both have things to improve.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before tuning back in, “sorry. ‘s still hard to break the habit, you catch me and i catch you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly, Now, Do You Want Me To Continue?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yeah,” because he wasn't really convinced about Red being like them both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He Strives On Doing Things Right. Last Session.” What happened last session? Jaws was ready to just leave that he’d blocked most of it out, “Red </span>
  <em>
    <span>Needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> To Do Things Correctly The First Time Or He Worries,” oh. Yeah. Sweetpea </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>do that… he got so caught up in having to do things correctly for other people that if they weren’t pleased or happy that he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>spiraled. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thought he wasn’t good enough. “He’s Anxious Like I Am. I Think… I Think He Puts Up A Bravado Like You Do So That People Will Willingly Stay Away From Him So That He Doesn’t Disappoint Them… I’m Anxious Of That Too. Just, More Open About It.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs covering his face with his hands. “damn. Sweets,” There’s just a soft laugh for his trouble. Guess the three of them we’re alike. “alright, alright i’ll call him, you get some sleep ‘s gettin’ late and you have a schedule to keep up,” he shoos away the younger skeleton with a wave of his hand, smiling underneath the other as Sweetpea laughs freely</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>boisterous and full of life. No care in the world that the volume might call attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were safe. They didn’t have to hide their joy anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But damn. To think that Red and him and Sweetpea could really have things in common? Maybe that’s why the volatile monster had always been his first pick when it came to having to work with one another for certain activities. Red didn’t insult what Jaws had, had to do in his universe, didn’t poke fun at his appearance</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweetpea’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> now that they had met</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>Red was the only one who entertained his rather macabre humor too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea really had hit the nail on the head. They could give Red a shot… worse come to worst well Jaws could grab his brother and ditch and see what Doctor Klein had to say about the whole thing. He’d call her in the morning but… he could give Red a call at least. Give the runt a chance to say if he really wanted to try this or if his bluffing ass needed an out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The line rings for what feels like forever before Red’s tired drawl filters through. Fuck, it was pretty late wasn’t it? Ah well the fucker was probably up before this any way</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>struggled with sleep just like the rest of them</span>
  <em>
    <span>—”</span>
  </em>
  <span>th’ fuck do you want?” there’s no heat behind it and if Jaws was really willing to think on it further he’d say there was some </span>
  <em>
    <span>eagerness </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the words. Too bad this wasn’t that kind of call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“y’know figured i’d check up on the only other monster who’s takin’ a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fall,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the joke about their equally abysmal mental health comes easy even as he hears the curse from Red’s side. “got a proposition for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“</b>
  <span>spit it out then asshole,” there’s the sound of something falling and another curse. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuckin’ twelves. who th’ fuck calls this damn late!” Huh. guess the guy </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>manage to sleep. Eh, well Jaws would feel bad after this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snickers, “quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>ticked </span>
  </em>
  <span>are ya?” There’s an aborted huff of laughter from Red’s end, another shuffle. Fucker was probably getting out of bed, drinking some god awful mustard or some shit. “look, you wanted to test out this shit first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... no yakin’ my chain?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“you think i’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to yank your chain?” He swears he can hear Red roll his eyes. “Sweetpea thinks it’d be… beneficial.” He tries not to sound bitter, he really does. Jaws wanted to get better, wanted them both to improve but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>this. He didn’t want to share his brother with these monsters</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>half of them didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>like him</span>
  </em>
  <span> or we’re fucking terrible to his brother. Shuffling he takes a moment to breathe before continuing, “we thought… look you’re the only one who wasn’t fuckin’ weird. yeah you had your moment and all but you ain’t done nothin’ to him. do you want to try it out or not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Red clears his throat trying to sound less excited than he really is. The fucking rest of the group was terrible. Red would and could say that to their faces </span>
  <em>
    <span>but— </span>
  </em>
  <span>that didn’t fucking mean he thought the lug would ever be convinced to do this shit. Jaws a protective son of a bitch. Growled at each and every one of them like a bear when they go too close to him or his sibling. So no. Red hadn’t thought even once that this call would come. Because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to improve. It’s slow going and he slips up but dammit. He could do it. “Yeah, i, uh, that’d be a real riot. won’t even try and bite</span>
  <em>
    <span>—” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and there’s the growl as Red was saying; protective. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span>i was </span>
  <em>
    <span>jokin’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“it fucking sucked,” Red snorts at the deadpan tone. Jaws really didn’t play when it came to the string bean. He could kind of understand… Boss had… he hadn’t needed Red to look out for him for a long ass time, but he could never really let any slights against him pass. They fought like dogs stuffed in a pen but that was their </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go at one another like beasts to try and gain some semblance of respect down below. It was brutal and terrible and Red understood now how badly it fucked them both over. “none of the,” he can imagine the hand waving that Jaws usually does, face pinched into a scowl. “Boss shit. I know it was a slip up that first time bit none of it! Bonk yourself in the damn head if ya need to, to remember cause I ain’t gonna do it for you. No </span>
  <em>
    <span>grabbin’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>neither.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raises a brow. Of course they figured something was up with touch but Jaws was never </span>
  <em>
    <span>frank </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it. “Yeah, yeah i know. No bitchin’ barkin’ or fightin’ neither. your bro’s a damn flower and we’re all pesticides in yer garden or some shit. ‘m tryin’ to get better too</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘s not just your ass. Razz and Classic might be a fuckin’ mess but some of us are tryin’ to enjoy the new lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaws huffs the sound as loud as a horn. Probably as red as a hydrant now too. He can’t help but snort at the imagery, “th’ fuck are you laughin’ at huh? I ain’t sayin’ that you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>tryin’ just that…” and there’s a grumble as he starts muttering to himself. Christ Jaws’ memory was terrible. “you’re not off the hook. Gotta prove that shit before i get off your case</span>
  <em>
    <span>—” </span>
  </em>
  <span>aka Red had to show that he wouldn’t accidentally attack either of them with his temper or say some stuid shit. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span> and let you around him again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ya really should get the stick out of yer ass,” He hears another growl as he drags himself to the kitchen. If Jaws was gonna snarl and posture at him Red was going to eat before he even tried </span>
  <em>
    <span>returning </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. His own therapist had suggested less… aggressive ways of responding and it was difficult. But he wanted to try… he knew that Boss wouldn’t come back</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>and if by some miracle he did, Red wasn’t sure that they’d be able to make as much progress. They egged each other on. Made one another </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse </span>
  </em>
  <span>instead of better after so many years of ignoring their problems and twisting it into blaming one another for perceived failures</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Red could at least try to grow. He had the chance now… Edge looked down on his way of things and it was understandable he looked down on Edge’s own. Boss had always told him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>and for once Red could. At his own pace. “i fuckin’ know about yer whole</span>
  <em>
    <span> no lying </span>
  </em>
  <span>shit. i said i’d fuckin’ try so ‘m gonna fuckin’ try. stop posturing asshole.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>posturing!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he snorts. Fucker was lying to himself. Though… Jaws does sound pretty put upon. Must have already been chastised for the same reason sometime earlier. He hears the sound of Jaws’ claws clacking</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>probably against his face</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>and hears the way the bigger monster deflates. There he was. The lug that wasn;t fucking terrible was coming back. Red didn’t care what anyone else said </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the ones making the most progress. In comparison to the rest they could be called feral. “sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘s no </span>
  <em>
    <span>skin</span>
  </em>
  <span> off my back,” Jaws lets out a wheezy little laugh, the creak of his bones loud and clear as he collapses against something. “I’ll uh. I’ll try and keep the Boss shit to a minimum… you know how the head gets.” he even raps his hand against the cranium a couple times. “What’s yer fuckin’ plan?” The conversation falls dead. For the love of</span>
  <em>
    <span>—”</span>
  </em>
  <span>did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>plan something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, well, i didn’t get that far!” He howls with laughter. Of all the fucking things. Jaws tries </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimidating </span>
  </em>
  <span>him! Without a damn plan no less. “don’t laugh you asshole! I don’t know a fucking normal day? ‘S supposed to be natural and shit… it doesn’t really need a plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re sure,” didn’t really make a difference to him. Now it was night, he was tired and the anxiety of the day was pounded into submission from exhaustion. The morning? Who kows because Red didn’t fucking know how he’d be. “A typical fuckin’ day then… i’ll uh. I don’t know come get ya? How the hell does this work?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“uhh,” he can hear the scratching at Jaws’ skull the cogs trying to tick into motion. “Slowly?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaws,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go th’ fuck to bed. I’ll get you two in the morning and we can… we can try this shit.” it doesn’t take much prodding after that for the call to die. Whoop-fucking-ie. They were attempting something.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red definitely does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>debate for a good ten minutes in front of Jaws’ and Sweetpea’s on how to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>knock. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course not. Red is completely and perfectly put together for this super fucking normal outing between three practical strangers</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>of which looked like him and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead </span>
  </em>
  <span>brother</span>
  <em>
    <span>— </span>
  </em>
  <span>yeah Red was. He was doing… something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Scratching at the back of his skull he squints at the place… it was a lot more put together than he’d thought it would be. There were a fuckton of planters. Like. a </span><em><span>fuckton</span></em><span> he’s pretty sure they’ve bought out an entire flower shop just looking at it all. But y’know it’s not like he could really judge them—</span> <span>Red had an entire room’s worth of rock and photo paraphernalia. Some of it for his own interest while others were things that he and Edge had discussed so many years ago when they’d gotten along and had dreams about the surface— everyone had their specific interests.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was just. A little surprising is all. They were all so… healthy. Vibrant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beautiful.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello!” Red definitely doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>jump</span>
  </em>
  <span> his soul in his throat as he spins around with the best scowl he can from amidst his weakness. It only falters when he’s greeted by a beaming grin, Sweetpea’s lower face still covered but… it’s a smile you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>is blinding. He takes a step back— maybe this was a bad idea? Red was… he wasn’t always in </span>
  <em>
    <span>control.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And… fuck the skeleton </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>really look like Boss. not right now when they were so close. All gentle slopes and easy smiles. Sweetpea </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>Edge and maybe, a tiny, </span>
  <em>
    <span>weighty</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of himself cracks at the realization— with a swallow he tries to muster a smile. No doubt failing by the way the taller monster’s expressions softens. “You… You Can Come In If You’d Like?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shuffling Red wars with himself. He had known that they weren’t alike and part him… part of him is </span>
  <em>
    <span>overjoyed</span>
  </em>
  <span>— the monster wouldn’t hurt him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt him like Edge had.— and another part rages at the loss. At something that was so integral to Red’s worth, his world, and his views are gone. Forever. His therapist had told him that it would be difficult… that abuse could be horrible and rough and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that it could also become so tightly entwined with what Red himself believed that after not having freedom from it for so long, he could look at things in ways that people would see odd. They didn’t understand that Red could have an attachment to </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the person that </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>him; but they also didn’t know that Red had done the same. Him and Edge… they. They did terrible things to one another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly like an alley cat he squeezes his way in avoiding contact with the other monster until he’s in the hall, sweat already starting to bead on his skull, on his hands, his spine. Fuck. how was he supposed to do this? “Th’ fuck you lookin’ at!” he doesn’t mean to snap, regrets it as soon as the words are out of his mouth— he’s already fucked up. Why couldn’t he just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They weren’t a fucking threat so why did his body treat everything as if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea just smiles as if they never heard the words motioning to the kitchen when a gleam on their sweater catches his eye. A sunflower. The words </span>
  <em>
    <span>she/her</span>
  </em>
  <span> engraved in gold and it hits Red over the head like one of Boss’ more volatile days. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She wasn’t him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sweetpea could never be</span>
  <em>
    <span> Boss. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He chokes on air. Forces himself to step into the kitchen. To sit. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>stare </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the monster shuffling about her cardigan and wonders if he’d end up crying before the day was over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was… it was something he was getting more comfortable with. Not often of course! But in the safety of his home. With the doors locked and the windows closed. Red could mourn. Could cry about all he'd missed as he grew. Of the things he’d never got to enjoy before. Just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to let it all fucking out. After so many fucking years of keeping it bottled up until it went sour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea lays a plate in front of him, her smile still in place even if it looks a bit more fragile. The curve of her sockets is so uncertain that Red tamps down the need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>yell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She hadn’t done anything wrong he was just so torn on how fucking hard it hit him that he was both free and had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>deal </span>
  </em>
  <span>with this new freedom. His hands shake as he takes the bowl— it had… a lot of fruits… and some kind of filling? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaws Will Be Down Soon… Go On. It’s An Acai Bowl!” She settles across from him, a nervous twitch to her smile as her gaze flicks from him to the food. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Red understood that look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without thinking he shoves a spoonful and a half into his mouth choking when he realizes that it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid ass decision </span>
  </em>
  <span>and tries not to laugh at how worried Sweetpea acts after she practically watched Red try to eat a fucking spoon. A glass of water held unsteadily in her hands staring worriedly as he waves her off. “‘m fine!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No You’re Not!” Her hands don’t touch him but he still feels the light lull of green magic pour into him like a dam, a sigh falling from him as the ache eases out his grip on the spoon lightening up. “Sorry, I, I Shouldn’t Have Tried To Make You Eat!” She wrings her hands together moving to take the bowl from the table only to pause when Red lets out a desperate growl practically hunching over the bowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i want to eat it! get yer hands away!” Genuinely. He did. This wasn’t Red trying to be an awkward people pleaser— he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>what Sweetpea is going through and how it can feel to constantly think you fucking failed. That you did something </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Dammit he hadn’t fucking eaten this morning due to his own fucking thoughts so Red was going to enjoy the damn fruit bowl or whatever the fuck it’s really called. “fuckin’ sit and we’ll… we’ll fuckin’ wait for your brother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She swallows easing into the second chair and that’s when Red realizes that there are only </span>
  <em>
    <span>two </span>
  </em>
  <span>chairs. Who the fuck only has exactly two chairs? “Sorry… I. I Shouldn’t Have Tried To Take Anything Away… We…,” She motions to her mouth weakly and Red’s glare dims. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“you’re definitely nothin’ like Boss,” She </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughs</span>
  </em>
  <span> as if what he said was the best thing in the world… it wasn’t the worst sound. “he’d have hit me over the fuckin’ head for snapping at him like that. you just… you sit and i’ll eat and tell you if it ain’t shit. got it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile she gives him this time is wider, her sockets crinkling up as she nods hands smoothing out her slacks. “Of Course, I’d Hate To Serve Something That Wasn’t Enjoyable. And… I’m Glad That You’ve Made The Connection That I’m Not Your Boss.” It isn’t said cruelly, instead it’s simple and factual. “I Know That We’ve Already Met But… I’m Sweetpea And I Hope You Have A </span>
  <em>
    <span>Berry </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sweet Treat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs despite himself spooning a safer amount to really try and he thinks, no jokes, that he could fall down right there and be fucking happy. He pins the taller monster with a look watching as their smile grows— still nervous but she looks… a good nervous, if there is such a thing— “</span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was a rotten joke… the bowl,” he can feel the red creep across his skull even as he wills it to fuck off from how excited she looks. Fuck. this was going to kill him. Red wasn’t… kindness wasn’t a thing he was accustomed to. Even as his magic spreads like wildfire he forces his mouth to work, “it was good.” he coughs turning back to shovel in more as Sweetpea beams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She definitely wasn’t like Boss. His bro could barely cook </span>
  <em>
    <span>noodles </span>
  </em>
  <span>without the stove bursting into smithereens. Sweetpea was… he’s not sure he can confidently say </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he had thought Boss was </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Red. Red doesn’t want to place any expectations on anyone any more. For now… Sweetpea is new territory. Neutral territory. An unfamiliar interaction that Red has to assess… and enjoy some free fucking food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good Morning, Sans,” She says it so primly that Red about short circuits at someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>than Boss using his actual name. That was another difference. Boss wasn’t… soft in anything. His tone. His actions. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>phrasing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This assignment was going to be easy. For him at least… the others might be… a bit more difficult against change. Hell, Red isn’t even sure he’s out of </span>
  <em>
    <span>denial. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I Made Breakfast!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels a chill run down his spine as Jaws doesn’t move from where he’s planted his feet in the doorway sockets focused on the back of Red’s head. Fuck. Right. Jaws’ fucking memory issues. “he’s here mighty damn early ain’t he?” There’s no bite to it but Red can hear— </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>— the directed question; </span>
  <em>
    <span>what brought you here so soon? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Brother,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He hears Jaws sigh barely making a sound as he goes around the other side of the table to lean against the counters eyes, never leaving Red’s form. “I’m Sure Red Was Just Nervous. This Is A Very… New Situation For All Of Us. Now Eat Up! Eat Up!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red clears his throat attempting another smile even as the overwhelming want to fucking poof out of the lion’s den hangs over his head. “‘s good. your, uh, your sister’s?” He sneaks a glance Sweetpea’s way taken back by the blinding smile that’s shot his way. He says it again more certain, “your sister’s pretty good at this shit, a pretty </span>
  <em>
    <span>fig </span>
  </em>
  <span>deal i’d say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaws’ shoulders shake with his laughter as his blank look transforms into unbridled grin laughter shaking the room. “a real </span>
  <em>
    <span>pear-fect</span>
  </em>
  <span> duo you got today huh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>peaches?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Red finds himself snickering along with him as Sweetpea lets out a playful soft scream in annoyance, her hands shooting up to show her disapproval at their jokes. “you take the first bite, you need to eat somethin’ you know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea fiddles with her scarf sending a panicked glance Red’s way. “I ain’t gonna say shit,” He goes back to shoveling more of his own bowl into his gullet looking away from her direction as she carefully unwinds the scarf to eat a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Both Of You Are Going To Fill The Day With Jokes Aren’t You?” It already sounds so defeated that Red can’t help but laugh feeling just a little calmer when Jaws comes to cuff carefully at his shoulder a bellowing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you fuckin’ know it peaches! </span>
  </em>
  <span>next to his ear. With a sigh Sweetpea puts the leftovers up smoothing out her cardigan once more before turning to give Red another smile, “Was There Somewhere You Wanted To Go First? I Believe We Are Going For A Typical Day, Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“oh, oh, shit yeah you’re right,” He scratches at the back of his skull awkwardly putting the bowl in the sink. Should he clean it? Was that too much? Not enough? He looks up when Sweetpea waves a hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t Worry. I’ll Clean It Later. Where Did You Have In Mind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“uhh,” well it kinda sounded dumb after they just ate. Red suffuses over his skull as he digs his hands into his pockets just to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>something with them as he fights the urge to scuff his shoes against the floor. “It was… it was kinda stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea just does that same soft smile as they loop their arm with Jaws’, “That’s FIne. The Day Is New, Why Shouldn’t We Enjoy It? Even The Things We Consider Stupid?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“s too early for the wise words pumpkin,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red finds himself smiling at the quiet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hush Sans it’s the perfect time to be wise! We have a potential friend here! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yeah. Sweetpea was definitely not Boss and Jaws wasn’t half bad either. “coffee, i, uh, i thought we could get cocoa or coffee cause it’s as cold as jack frost’s ass right now.” he shrugs his shoulders fighting the urge to hunch in on himself when Sweetpea offers him another encouraging smile. Fuck it. He could hide… it wasn't like they could bring this up in group. Burrowing his face into the fur of his jacket he stomps out feet moving quickly to block out the fond giggle. “We can fuckin’ do somethin’ else though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“c’mon red loosen up a little,” Jaws doesn’t touch him to try and pull him into a noogie or something as equally as humiliating, but his grin shows just how amused he is. “If you want a fuckin’ coffee we can get a coffee can’t we, shugs?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He burrows his face again as soon as Sweetpea smiles at him— Red was going to fucking die. This… this easy conversation wasn’t normal. There was no heat behind any of it. No </span>
  <em>
    <span>danger </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear </span>
  </em>
  <span>when it came to what he said or did. He… Red likes this— “let’s get some fuckin’ coffees then. There’s, uh, apparently some stupidly sweet shit out right now.” Jaws had a sweet tooth. He knew that always gushed about sweet shit he had for dinner and he wasn;t sure but… Sweetpea would probably enjoy the fruity or floral shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Red. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gets himself a grande Cinnamon Dolce Latte. When he actually has something in his hands, something he can use to keep his mouth </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut</span>
  </em>
  <span>— from nerves, from being worried about his phrasing, from </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassment</span>
  </em>
  <span>— he feels much better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The booth they pick is in the back of the place. Hidden and secure. Red’s favorite place in the entire store. “Damn red,” He looks up, cheeks bulged like a hamster as he drinks the guilty pleasure like a starved man. “how the fuck have your bones not shattered?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sans!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“what? look at that thing!” Red can’t even find it in himself to be offended. Jaws could </span>
  <em>
    <span>shove </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. This was his one indulgence this week and Red wasn’t going to be shamed out of it! Jaws has a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>matcha </span>
  </em>
  <span>drink. The worst fucking thing in the store— tasted like grass. No one wonder his vegan ass liked it. “‘s bigger than his head!” He glares feeling a little better when Sweetpea laughs from the middle a soft, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s happy though. You shouldn’t judge either yours is about the size of your head.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He even sticks his tongue out when Jaws flushes from embarrassment. “alright alright stop gangin’ up on me. Thought you were on my side…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh stop bitchin’ an’ enjoy your grass,” Jaws flips him the bird nudging Sweetpea to sit up a little more when her laughter makes her topple over a bit. They were such goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>nerds.</span>
  </em>
  <span> How had any of them thought that Jaws was scary? He was just fucking overgrown teddy bear when he was chill. “how’s the Teavana sweets?” the nickname still feels awkward in his mouth and red still flushes his entire skull at using such a… such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cutesy </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing but the beam he gets in return— and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pointedly </span>
  </em>
  <span>ignoring the assessing look in Jaws’ eyes— makes it a little more bearable. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sweetpea was nothing like his brother except in build and probably a mostly pacifistic approach— though Edge would </span>
  <em>
    <span>use </span>
  </em>
  <span>violence he just wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill </span>
  </em>
  <span>unless absoluetly fucking forced to— and it was getting easier. Sweetpea and Jaws were… they were odd siblings. But they probably would’ve thought the same of him and Edge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They weren’t terrible to be around. He still felt a need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to fix things up, to try and appease them in a way he was sure would stick around until Red learned of a way to physically rip it out of himself… but they weren’t bad. By any means. Maybe this whole group thing… wasn’t a total sham. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll,” He leans forward only to jerk himself back into his seat when he realizes what he was doing. And Sweetpea just gives him a knowing look, a considerate hum coming from her before she continues, “I’m Not Very </span>
  <em>
    <span>Big </span>
  </em>
  <span>On Tea—” Fuck. “—But It Is Rather Nice. Perhaps A Bit Strong For My Tastes But It’s A Nice First Try.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“as in… tea… or?” now that he thought of it… did they really go outside that often? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fiddles with her hands shifting into Jaws’ side as her expression twists up in thought. “We Haven’t Really Been To Many Coffee Shops?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>what? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“We, Well, We Tend To Make Everything We Can At Home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red sends Jaws a desperate look. That can’t be right. They’ve been on the surface and didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy </span>
  </em>
  <span>shit? “Jaws, what the fuck? This is the first time you’ve had </span>
  <em>
    <span>Starbucks?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scratches at his cheek a lopsided grin in place. “Uh, yup.” he even pops the P like this is some easy information. Red is socially awkward as he hell but even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>forced himself out of the damn house to explore. What fucking good was the surface if he didn’t enjoy shit he didn’t get to before? “me an’ Sweets don’t uh, we don’t feel real comfortable outside. We’re uh,” He sends a look his sisters way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh she sits up fingers folding together in her lap as she gives Red her full attention. “We’re Still Considered A… A Threat By The Humans’ Government… And Our Current Leader Is Detained At The Moment. Many Monsters From Our... “ She winces ducking her face further into her scarf body, physically trying to hide behind Jaws’ bulk as if speaking the words physically </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“... Our Home Are Still Considered Unfit For Most Society… We Survive Off Money Sent Every Month Until We Are Cleared For Certain… Activities Amongst The Humans.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His jaw falls open. What the ever loving fuck? He’d thought his universe had it rough… with the whole anarchy thing the first time they fucking surfaced. Red had been on fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>house arrest </span>
  </em>
  <span>and nearly went crazy due to cabin fever. He’d never really known what the other universes went though… that was rough. “that’s uh, tha’s pretty rough, buddy,” well damn Red that was the best fucking thing you could come up with?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaws snorts, “you’re fuckin’ tellin’ us. me an’ Sweets are ready to stretch our legs past the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking mall we’re allowed to go to. th’ fuck do you do since you’re not… y’know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both look at him with wide sockets that it makes his soul churn uncomfortably. Attention was mostly a bad thing where he was from… but… they wouldn’t hurt him. Jaws hadn’t tried to posture at him or fucking swipe at his head and severely doubted that Sweetpea could will himself to hurt someone. He wasn’t saying he thought she was weak because those two survived a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>famine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Red knew pain and violence weary when he saw it. These two had that in spades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I uh,” His magic beads at his skull at the intense stares, his fingers tightening around his cup as he breaks eye contact. He clears his throat, “I uh, i watch dogs,” it wasn’t… amazing by any means, but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyable. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They were nice company. And y’know he could get dogs to listen without having to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything. Red had a pretty mean growl when he tried. “They’re uh. Y’know…” he says lamely with a shrug avoiding their looks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That Sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wonderful!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He sneaks a nervous glance the siblings’ way feeling overwhelmed with how excited Sweetpea looks. Hell even Jaws looks interested, his brow bones raised high. “Do You Think One Day We Could See? We, Um, We Aren’t Used To Many Dogs Besides The Monster Kind… Are They,” She leans forward her tone taking on a conspiratorial tone that has Red trying to tamp down a howl of laughter, “Are They </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really </span>
  </em>
  <span>Incapable Of Speech?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says it so simply that he feels just a little bad at how quickly Sweetpea deflates her arms, crossing unhappily. “They’re just as smart though… some of ‘em even smarter than the canine units.” his mouth quirks up in an easy grin, “there’s a dog named pancake he can open all the doors in the place. I’ve had to chase that fucker down more times than i can count. I uh, if your bro don’t mind, i can send you pictures?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her head spins around so quickly that Red fears that it’s going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fly </span>
  </em>
  <span>off as she sends possibly the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best </span>
  </em>
  <span>attempt at a puppy dog face that a skeleton can make. “Dogs, Sans! Big Dogs! Little Dogs! Dogs With </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bowties!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jaws cackles from next to her as she continues listing off all the dogs she’s no doubt seen from the internet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, yeah, why not,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I uh. If you wanted,” Their heads spin back to him— he really hoped their skulls didn’t go flying. That would be such a terrible thing to explain to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>human </span>
  </em>
  <span>workers. Oh yeah my… friends(?) just got excited their heads do that sometimes. It’s fine. No really. It screws right back on see!— and he shrinks in his seat taking another </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>sip before trying to continue his previous sentence. “dogs! I have, uh, some on my phone if,” he was really doing this. Christ he was dizzy. Should skeleton monsters even be able to be dizzy? “If you wanna see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice definitely didn’t get quieter as he spoke. Nope. definitely not. Red was a bass through and through thank you very much it was just his deeper range. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaws hums giving him that same look from earlier— the one that made him feel like he was being </span>
  <em>
    <span>sized up</span>
  </em>
  <span>— before he nods. “go on over, pumpkin. go look at th’ dogs. ‘M gonna get us somethin’ to go. We still gotta go to the grocers in a bit,” ah. So that was Jaws Code for </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re gonna head home soon cause this was a fucking lot and I need a break.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And probably meant that Red hadn’t joined the larger monsters shit list. Which. Good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They uh. They weren’t terrible and sure Red still felt sweaty and nervous and fucking ready to bolt. But. this was nice? Enjoyable? It was a new experience and he wasn’t… he wasn’t against it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweetpea scoots a little closer to look over his shoulder and Red’s proud that he’s able to scare off the need to flee. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>Boss. This wasn’t an intimidation tactic. She wouldn’t fucking hit him and Red wouldn’t return it with just as much force. He sinks into the seat next to her his thumb shaking minorly as he opens up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pups </span>
  </em>
  <span>folder on his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“that’s pancake,” She coos her magic sparking to life just briefly to make a dim heart in her socket. He grins. These dogs were… they were kind of his. He adopted the fuckers as soon as they walked into the place even if they weren’t really his. “Those are the damn doors he keeps opening,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He manages to relax as he recounts story after story of the dogs, grin so wide his skull </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But it’s… it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Red… feels better. It still hurts to know that Edge is gone— and still part of him doesn’t want to accept it. Probably won’t for a very long time— but he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>happier </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now. Squished into a booth with Sweetpea as they look at </span>
  <em>
    <span>dogs </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all things to try and bond over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fixed</span>
  </em>
  <span> by any means but right now, right here he’s happy that he’s finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Plus… he got to brag in group that he did fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Razz and Classic could shove it! They we’re always looking down on him and yet! He’s pretty fucking sure he got that Jaws’ seal of approval somehow. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Red: *Does something that makes Sweetpea Smile/Laugh*</p><p>Jaws, immediately: Perhaps you deserve some rights.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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